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murdered.'
    Òh by Christ, how awful! Murdered! Right here in the club. Who the hell would . . .' He glared across at Skinner. `Well, who the hell would? Do you have a suspect?'
    Ìt's early days yet, sir. My officers are just beginning interviews with everyone who was here when Michael was killed. Once they're complete we'll see if anything leaps out at us. Just for the record, sir, when was the last time you saw him?'
    The Marquis raised an eyebrow. 'This morning. We had some stuff to go over, to do with the tournament. He came out to Bracklands early; ate breakfast with Sue and me.'
    Ì take it that Sue is Lady Kinture?'
    "S- right.'
    `How did he seem?'
    `Full of beans. He was very excited about playing with Cortes. Went on about it just a little too much, in fact. Most difficult thing about all this for me is having to watch all these damn fellas playing my course. I helped design it, you know. Gave O'Malley the architect some ideas. Insisted that he use all the existing features, but create nothing new, except bunkers.
    My baby, but I'll never hit a shot on her.'
    Skinner looked at him, touched by the sadness which had broken through the crusty exterior.
    'There's no movement in your legs at all, then?'
    `Not a bloody twitch. Been everywhere, tried everything. When something like this happens, they're never quite sure how it'll work out. Sometimes a little movement can come back after a couple of years. Not with me, though. On my arse for the rest of my life.'
    `So Michael was a bit insensitive. Did you quarrel over it?'
    This time both noble eyebrows shot upwards. 'God no! Chap didn't mean anything by it.
    Frankly, even if he had, I couldn't afford to fall out with him. Needed his dough in the venture. I'd be in the shit if he pulled out. Have to go into business with the banks, God forbid. So no, officer, we did not have words. Mind you, I was grumpy all morning. Took it out on poor Sue, I'm afraid.'
    `You needed White's money, you say. Mind if I ask how the venture is structured.'
    `No point in my minding. It's a matter of record. We're incorporated as Witchhill plc. The company has three shareholders; the Kinture Family Trust has forty-five per cent, White Holdings has another forty-five and Ryan O'Malley, the course architect, was given the balance as part of his fee, with the proviso that if he ever wants to sell he has to offer Michael and me five per cent each.'
    `No one else with any form of interest?'
    `Nobody. Had plenty of approaches from people wanting in on the action. Everybody and his brother — in one case quite literally — were keen to have a part of what's going to be the finest golf development on the planet. Mickey and I turned them all down. We were pretty certain that we didn't need anyone's cash or reputation to make Witches' Hill a success.'
    The policeman nodded. 'What's the effect of the death of a shareholder?'
    The Marquis smiled. 'Good question, Skinner. In the event of my death or that of O'Malley, there's no effect. But as far as Michael is — or was — concerned, the company has a term policy on his life which will put it in funds to buy out his share. So, as Mr Morton is fond of putting it, how do you like them apples, Assistant Chief Constable?'
    It was Skinner's turn to smile. 'They look very tasty, sir, for you and Mr O'Malley. Your respective holdings should double, virtually, as a result of Michael's death. Gives you each a prime motive.'
    The Marquis glanced down at his captive legs. 'Don't think I'm up to cashing in on it,' he grunted.
    Àh, but you must know, sir,' said Skinner, leaning back in his chair, fixing the Marquis with his easy grin. 'You don't have to do the killing to do the crime. I investigated a case a few months ago in which a man was responsible for a murder even though it was committed after he was dead.
    `But on balance I think you're a bit too obvious a suspect actually to be a suspect . . . even if we ignore the fact that whoever killed White didn't do it